Broken Transmitter
by InTheWordsOfTheRaven
Summary: There was a dull, whiny sound in Harry's ears, erupting now and then, popping and crackling- like a bad radio, trying to tune in. He looked at a face of a clock. Tick-tock, Tick-tock. You're about to begin your own fate, Harry. Be sure to be prepared. AU.
1. The Prologue

Happy music blared from the television. It was dark, and it was quiet in a small, enclosed space where the boy lived. Darkness washed out everything, from the boy's unnaturally green eyes to the messy black mop of his hair.

There was only breathing in the small cupboard. The sound would not be washed out by the darkness, and a small, huddled form could hear that and be reassured he was alive.

It faded in and out, in times like these. Debating if this was worth it. Wondering who he was, because the happy family in front of the television lied so much.

There were shades of darkness, Harry had learned long ago. Different kinds. It was scary, but it wasn't going to hurt him. _They_ hurt him, so the darkness would protect him.

_Breath in, Breath out._

The darkness had no use for what was already hurt. What didn't mind terror anymore, - had learned to deal with it.

So the darkness cradled him instead, and dull green eyes closed, relaxing enough to sleep.

_Breath in, Breath out._

_Breath in, Breath out._

_Breath in, Breath out…_

_

* * *

_

Dreams never came for Harry Potter. Never had the luxury, he was too tired.

Only a form of broken reality was allowed- Flickers of various pieces of memory flashed through a hazy blackness, darting in and out, too fast to see- He didn't even bother trying to do anything about it anymore. There was nothing to see.

Finally, his world began settling into place, and Harry felt a vague floating feeling before he found himself on the cold marble of a chessboard, a vague wind blowing. Hairline cracks interwove in and out of the chessboard grounds.

There were pawns, as Harry could see off, far in the distance. He couldn't see them clearly, but he knew they were there. Watching.

The feeling of now wasn't reality, but there wasn't dreaming to be spoken of- the possibility had passed... He just existed.

Shattered pieces of white and onyx were grouped all around him- in grotesque mounds, similar to a grave. There were bodies to be found on this chessboard, and he found he only felt a detached grief for the fallen.

But who were the fallen? He didn't know.

Green eyes blinked sluggishly.

Bony white fingers brushed the black marble of the chessboard. There was no reality in this world of his. He had no name, so he had to make one. He was given so many. He didn't have his own, did he...? Nothing to call his very own. And for some reason, that made him sad. He had no toys. No life. No dreams. No goodness. Fear accompanied him, as did anger, hope, and bravery. But they weren't his. Cunning swirled around him like a snake, but he was his own being.

So did he have himself?

Not now. But he would, if he tried. So…would he try?

Suddenly, a silent choice was made and Harry felt himself walking across the chessboard, his feet careful not to disturb the graves of the fallen.

He jerked to a stop, turned. He was standing in the middle of the chessboard. He began walking again, and soon his feet took him to the edge of the chessboard.

He was himself, so he would not remain as a pawn on this chessboard. He would claim himself for himself, so…

Knees crouched, and Harry sprung into the blackness outside of the chessboard.

There was a new _player_ that had to be found, after all...It was boring to play with one's self. Wind rushed around him, and he grinned, unafraid as he fell.

The greedy hands of the abyss swallowed him, and Harry plunged into the unknown, a startled laugh erupting from his lips.

_Up, up and away…_

* * *

"UP! GET UP! NOW!" a familiar screech awoke the small boy from his spot on the floor, startling him from his dream. Bleary green eyes opened, half-wondering if he imagined the screech. But alas, he did not- as he quickly discovered when a terribly loud rapping noise made itself clear through the small space. " Up!" A last screech, and he heard her walking away.

Harry sighed. Today was about to be hell, he was sure. A loud thumping noise jerked his attention upwards, and Dust and dead bodies of spiders began falling from the ceiling. He felt a wry, bittersweet smile tug across his face as he realized it was his cousin Dudley, whose birthday was today. Ah, he was sure to have an absolutely miserable day...the boy thought mindlessly with a small, grim satisfaction in predicting what always happened.

Not that he didn't have any good days, per say. Simply it would be saying that it would be much more horrid than usual.

The thumping continued, and Harry morbidly wondered if his elephant-like cousin would break through the stairs and squish him dead, as to not face the day.

Alas- he did not in fact, fall through the stairs, but instead began running down said stairs and into the kitchen, where he would be mothered and, dare he say it- cuddled by his horse of a mother. The mere thought sent a shudder down his spine, but he ignored it and pushed the door open. He had to make breakfast, after all...

And so he walked out of the small cupboard, leaving the safety of darkness to face the day. A big, colorless top that used to be his cousin's swished around his knobby knees as a tiny hand reached for the kitchen door handle.

_Welcome back to reality, Mister Potter. Something's about to happen._

_

* * *

_

Authoress's Note: I have come up with a slightly twisted idea for this particular fanfiction. I am rather...new, at this. So try not to hate too much...-smiles apologetically- Actually, I'm trying to improve my writing skills in doing this. I hope you can give me some tips and advice. Uhm...This is a simple and short Prologue, so, yeeeesss...I think it may turn out a-typical for a beginning, but I do have this idea I want to spin out. I hope you can stick with me throughout the story, whoever you are.

Please Review? Thank you. Oh! yes. I don't own Harry Potter. I do own my ideas.


	2. Chapter One: Beginning of the End

_Chapter One: The Beginning of the End_

_

* * *

_

The Dursley family was a rather typical suburban English family in the 1990's,- and they liked it that way, thank you very much.

The neighborhood that they lived in was almost boring in its simplicity and the absolute typicalness of that one would find in such a place. There were no outrageous decorations, all very tidy and very much so the same everywhere. Of course, there were miniscule deviations in the otherwise unmitigated sameness . Petunias were a common favorite, as were geraniums. All very normal, and this fact contented the Dursley family.

However... there were abnormalities to the family if not the neighborhood itself; ( Even though they vehemently denied it) such as the father and son, who were abnormally large and fat- to the point of which it was a rather terrifying thing, as they resembled big, fleshy boulders with shoulders. The mother on the other hand was very tall, and very thin. A fine crop of blond hair flourished on her head, as did on her son's- this would have worked to her favor except for one rather undeniable fact; she looked like one end or another of a horse.

Why were they like this, you may ask? Well, their current state was the result of being charged with the care of one very small boy, by the name of Harry Potter- who lived with them, in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry Potter himself did not appear to be very special, at least in his early years. True, he had an odd scar on his head which was shaped like a lightning bolt, but that really was all that could be said in terms of anything distinguishing about him. He had green eyes and black hair, very pale, and was abnormally small and skinny for his age. Except for the last part, this sort of description was all-around normal for boys his age. He was eager to please, but perpetually solemn and rather sad. And despite his appearance and personality, the Dursley's simply hated him for what he symbolized. Abnormality.

Several incidents came to pass for him; during which they changed him in several ways. The first one was on a christmas day, when he was a young age of six. He had decided to make a small gift for his family, hoping to get a present in return. The result ended horribly, and in the end of it all he was stuck in his cupboard with his present burning to ashes in the fireplace, along with a few bruises and a red handprint on his cheek.

Understandably, for someone who had no love to speak of throughout his entire life, who tried to give some love to those undeserving only to have it harshly rebuked- this was rather traumatizing. Another incident was when he was running away from Dudley's gang, he ran into an alley and accidentally enticed a man into running after him, selecting him as a target to kill. He was only saved by a man about thirty years old, A mister Travers, who received a shot from the man's gun meant for Harry.

He died in Harry's arms.

These two incidents were what changed him the most. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see the reality of his situation. There was no love for him in his household, nor in the neighborhood. However, he had no where to go. So he decided to reap any sort of benefit he could possibly get.

This began by sneaking out to the Library ( Which stayed open until one am in the morning, amazingly enough) at night, when his relatives were fast asleep. He worked by day and learned by night. Learning in school wasn't much of an option for him, as he wasn't exactly allowed to raise his marks above Dudley's. But in the wee hours, Harry learned much. Faust was a particularly favored book of his, even though he never really had time to spare on it- he was busy trying to learn as much as he could before he had to sleep.

This went on for about half a year.

By the end of it, he had gathered something of a family. Albeit of a dysfunctional, randomly put together sort, but it was family.

Harry was changed, none the less. He was saved, and he was damned.

* * *

And now, dear readers...I have been long enough with explaining in our hero's backstory. I will commence with the story.

* * *

Rain pounded hard on the ceiling of the Dursley's home.

Small, bony fingers cracked white eggs with brief, precise movements on the sizzling skillet. The clear liquid of the egg oozed out first, like clear blood, then the yellow fell onto the pan next with an inaudible thud. This process was repeated as Harry distantly listened to the Dursley family celebrate as he cooked in the small kitchen.

" Thirty-seven? But, but- I had thirty-eight last year!"

Harry had to stifle a snort at the pig's whining. Dudley-the Pig-was rather aptly nicknamed, or so Harry thought. Dudley was his cousin, and plenty human, but if one were to look up the meaning of "greed" in the dictionary, he was half-expectant that he would see his cousin's name somewhere in it. He ate huge amounts of food at every meal, wasn't above throwing earth-shattering tantrums to get his way, and he would go around with huge amounts of...henchmen? minions? Harry wasn't terribly sure, but "friends" would be a very loose term to use for his companions that went around with the Pig, engaging in sports such as "Harry Hunting", bullying other kids, and underage smoking. ( Harry didn't particularly care about the last one, as it would slow down his cousin when he engaged in Harry Hunting and be easier to detect, what with the smoker's scent.) So, perhaps this was good enough cause to for this particular name.

The Dursley family soon faded to background noise once again as Harry lifted the eggs carefully out of the pan and began to fry about two packets worth of Bacon. Harry learned long ago he couldn't afford to sneak a piece, as he would be probably be beaten up by Dudley for it later. Vernon Dursley would probably hit him, but Harry knew the law stopped him from getting a thrashing from the huge man. Ah well. Maybe it really was the lesser of evils that he would have the Pig set on him.

Harry scooped Bacon out of the pan almost mechanically.

_Pigs. Bacon._

A little voice inside his head whispered of irony, and a tiny smile lifted up Harry's face- but as soon as it came, it went. He grabbed the groaning plates of food for the two piggy Dursleys and set it in front of them silently, not even bothering to alert them of their meal. Like pigs, they would smell it and feed their greedy mouths for food they didn't need.

Aunt Petunia's custom of one egg and two strips of bacon were set in front of her as well. Harry had a tad more respect for her than her fat husband. She worked the neighborhood like her own house, subtly and efficiently. Vernon was wrapped around her pinky finger. Dudley was her little attack dog, and Harry was her slave. The Neighbors were her audience, to see the acting of the most normal, most boring life ever imagined. So yes, for that Harry respected her. For all of her horsey looks, for all of her carefully permed blond hair, for all of her apparent stupidity for marrying such a husband, she had carved out a niche for herself- and was doing a god damn good job in maintaining that.

" We'll have to take him with us- of course, can't have the Freak spoil our perfect day-" His Aunt's voice slowly tuned into Harry's brain, like a bad radio reception.

Take him to what? Harry wondered.

* * *

As it turned out, Harry was taken to the Zoo with the Pig and his minion, who went by the name Piers.

The rain was still pounding when Harry had at first slipped into the car, not particularly caring that he was going to the Zoo. Sure, if he went with his surrogate family- that would be different, but the excitement was rather spoiled with the Pig going along with him. Or rather, vice versa.

This particular feeling of apathy only increased when the Dursley's stopped at the minion's wretchedly normal little house to load him into the car, where Dudley recieved him with piggish delight. Harry only looked briefly at the two, then returned to staring out the window, wanting to be with his family in the twenty-four hour cafe nearby. He would get a cocoa over there, too...

A slight sigh, and he shook away such thoughts. It only made the longing worse.

Dudley and Piers were roughhousing with each other in the back, he absently noted. He began to daydream then, his mind conjuring up wild fantasies of Mephistopheles, the Demon in the tale of Faust, and Faust himself, old and wrinkled; pouring over the Devil's books and gaining such knowledge as to that he was perhaps, one of the most powerful humans to have ever lived. Knowledge was Power, after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly rough shove from Dudley, who pushed Piers onto Harry's skinny, bony body. The shove didn't particularly bother Harry, as he was accustomed to far harder blows. It was the look of disgust from Piers that he recieved that made Harry's heart grow heavy. What had the Pig said to make him so hated? Suppressing another sigh, Harry returned back to daydreaming, if a little more morbid in his fantasies now.

The rythm of the rain was so comforting, Harry thought distantly. Slowly, his eyes began to close. Gone was Mephistopheles, along with his Contractor and Faust's love, Gretchen. There was the sound of his breathing, the rain, and the distant rumble of the car.

_Breath in._

_Breath out._

_Breath in._

_Breath out..._

* * *

A rat skittered across Harry's hand, swift and greedy.

Harry was too tired to pull it back, utter an automatic cry of disgust. But even so, for the human reaction he would produce, he knew there was a feeling of companionship between him and such a creature; He could sympathize- after all, All they did was try survive, to see the next day. It wasn't so hard to misunderstand that, wasn't it?

Harry slowly opened his eyes. There was a soft, orange flourecent glow in the distance, and his back was leaning against a brick wall. feet were propped against another wall, and he was sitting on pavement. So it was an Alley that he was in, he decided.

Something cold and serpentine swirled smoothly up his leg- and his first impulse was to panic, but...something told him there was nothing to fear.

Eventually, a serpentine head drifted into his line of view. It seemed that a snake was on his leg.

Boy and Serpent looked at each other for a long moment, waiting for the other to make a move.

Then a voice spoke. It was youthful, one could say. A male in his mid-twenties who spoke from nowhere-and everywhere- all at once. The voice was vaguely accented, but with what Harry could not be sure.

It said: " What is your name?"

Harry looked around confusedly, looking to see the source.

"Over here, boy." The voice sounded distinctly annoyed, and instinctively, Harry looked towards the snake. The snake nodded when he saw it, confirming that it was the source of the voice.

" What is your name?" it said once more, and Harry's voice sounded in return, calm and solemn. " I am called Harry by most. Freak by others. I have no name to call my own."

The Snake nodded again, solemn as well.

" I, too have no name to call my own, as others have called me many other things. But..."

Its tail flicked.

" You may call me Aries."

Harry nodded again. " Pleasure, Aries. But..." A curious tone drifted into his voice. " I didn't know snakes could talk in a tongue which humans could comprehend."

" They don't," Aries said shortly. " But..." A slightly..._coy_...tone crept into the voice. "...There are _humans_ who can speak the tongue of _snakes_." Harry nodded slowly in response to this, taking it in. He had heard stranger things.

" Now, I have come here for one thing, and for one thing only Mister Potter," ( Later, Harry would wonder where the Snake had heard his last name) " And that is- you must make an important choice very soon. Something's about to happen, and you're smack dab in the middle of it. Just be sure to make the right choice."

Harry nodded, and the dream blurred...

* * *

Suddenly, Harry found himself in a strange parody of Private Drive, House number four, Surrey.

Aunt Petunia was in her kitchen, busy frying up some food. Uncle Vernon was reading the newspaper- these were all very normal things to see at Private Drive, very typical indeed.

What made it so odd was that they looked very..._doll_-like. Vernon's usually rather red face looked to be painted instead of naturally so. Petunia's horsey features were a carved, yellowish ivory instead of naturally grown flesh. But what was truly terrifying about them was that they had buttons for eyes, sewn into their face- and an identical cruel red smile was painted onto their lips. A hint of pointed teeth showed, and it gleamed- gleamed like the butcher's knife that was about to go down on a poor animal's head...

Harry's breath began rising and dying at unnaturally fast rates, and his fingers scrabbled around his face, feeling for those huge black buttons, that cruel smile. He had neither, and he relaxed a bit.

Looking around, he wondered where his elephant-pig-whale of a cousin was. He shrugged. Probably in his room... But it would be odd for Dudley to be up there- well, at least the Dudley he knew...

Feeling idle curiosity settle on him, fear forgotten- Harry began his way up the stairs, deliberately not looking at his cupboard. There was paint peeling off the walls of the house, he noted. Rather odd...The Dursley family liked the be clean-clean to the point of obscenity. But he digressed.

The floor was a curious rusty brown. He didn't remember this...

Walking more quickly now, he opened the room to Dudley's room- but no fat pig in sight. He looked up, where he knew there would be a window. A gleam of metal shined in the distance, and he frowned, trying to get a better look.

It was Dudley, holding a metal bat. There was a bloody smear on the ground, all scattered organs and bruised skin- and of course, the blood was everywhere, including his cousin.

Blood ran down the metal bat in fat, thick rivulets, and Harry wanted to retch.

This Dudley had killed a person.

* * *

When Harry came to, The Family and the Minion had arrived at the Zoo.

"Hey, Mum- the Freak's coming to!" Dudley had said. " Hey, Freak- We're at the Zoo! Get out or we'll leave you here." Harry, to be honest- was severely tempted to say that he would stay in the car, but in this summer weather- even though it was raining, and raining rather hard- he knew it could clear up within seconds. And then it would get hot, which would make him feel claustrophobic. So...that was out.

With a soft, inaudible sigh, Harry ran a hand through terrifically messy black hair in frustration, then-decision made, he opened the car door and stepped out into the heavy rain. Almost immediately, he was drenched. Another inaudible sigh- of course, he thought in frustration- The Dursleys wouldn't offer him an umbrella. Uncle Vernon offered his umbrella graciously to his Aunt, and Dudley and Piers shared an umbrella as well- but no umbrella for Harry Potter. Lovely.

Whining won't do you any good, Harry... A little voice in the back of his head said in a slightly cynical fashion. Slip away from them and go find a bathroom to dry off in once you're in the Zoo. Harry shrugged slightly. Who was he to refuse sound advice?

* * *

But as luck would have it, Harry didn't even have to slip away from them. Uncle Vernon had taken him aside and warned him about doing any "funny stuff"-What, did they think that he was going to set fire to a trash can?- and after the warning, he told Harry half-heartedly to meet them at 3pm, outside the Zoo.

So Harry was a pretty happy boy- or at least as happy as he could muster.

One problem.

Where on earth was the Bathroom?

Harry glanced at the leaflet that he held in his hand, frustrated beyond belief. He was soaking wet, he was terrified he was going to catch a cold-or worse, a flu- and both would not bode well for him, seeing as his immune system wasn't able handle being sick. Flu would mean horrible dreams and throwing up acid in his stomach, though...

And oh, yes. And it was cold.

Finally, he spotted a guard and made up his mind to walk over to ask him where the Bathroom was. " Excuse me, sir?" He called out politely. The Guard turned. He had a nice, ordinary face. Typical for a middle-aged man in england, Harry absently noted. " Do you know where is the bathroom? I'd like to dry off." The Guard nodded and pointed. " There, son. Mind you don't catch a cold, now." Harry nodded and walked in the direction he was pointed out. Eventually, he reached the Bathroom- thankfully, it was rather dry. A bit damp, but it wasn't soaking. He walked over to the sinks and grabbed a handful of paper towels, then began blotting the water out of his head and clothes.

Harry carefully avoided looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. He didn't really like looking at himself- it reminded him of being stuck in his cupboard with no where to go. His short and skinny frame was a firm reminder of that- results of being crammed into a tiny space with no food.

Harry lifted the damp paper towel from his head and disposed of it, satisfied that his hair was mostly dry. He looked at the damp grey fabric of his shirt. He recalled that this particular shirt that he had inherited from his cousin could hold quite a bit of water- he knew this from experience- and he could save plenty of valuable paper towels by simply taking it off and wringing it off in the sink. So he tugged it off, shivering slightly as his bare, damp skin came into contact with the cold air. However, his fingers being steady-he folded the shirt in half, then quarters. He twisted the grey fabric, and a gush of water fell into the sink. He twisted harder, and more water fell out, followed by steady dripping that faded into nothing. Satisfied, Harry pulled on the damp shirt. It would dry off eventually- and besides, it wasn't soaking anymore. His pants didn't need drying, as they were a pair of old swim trunks inherited from Dudley. ( Dudley was five at the time he had casually tossed it to Harry.)

Harry turned to walk out of the bathroom, mission finished. He had a Zoo to see.

* * *

" Of course, the first thing I would happen upon _would_ be the reptile house..." Harry said dryly.

The reptile house for this particular Zoo was rather famous for it's collection, but Harry didn't think he'd find it so fast. Still, it was rather interesting, he mused. There was a certain grace that only they could possess, as serpent stared at the humans, and humans stared at the serpent. Harry found the humans rather clumsy in comparison.

Perhaps he was a tad biased. After all, he could view it from the Snake's view- oftentimes he was treated like a snake by the Dursley's; Like the snake, he was feared. Like the snake, he was green-and-darkly colored. (Okay, green eyes and black hair. But still.) Hell, he was treated different than a normal human being, which accounted also for the snake part. And lastly, he could speak to snakes.

Harry knew this after a memorable incident with a garden snake, about to sink its fangs into his ankle.

He still didn't know why it thought he was a small tree- and seriously, why would it want to bite a tree, of all things?

At any rate, since had found out this ability of his he had treasured it, kept it to himself, and pondered on it. He knew that Snakes in general were sifted into both good categories and bad ones- He imagined that his ability for speaking their language would have been probably sorted into either as well. Well, he had made up his mind on that matter. He didn't really care if people thought it was bad, or if it was good. It was his, it was just a bloody ability to speak a language, and that was it. Nothing else.

There was a small commotion- Harry looked towards the noise instinctively; It seemed that the Pig was there with his father- and they were both pounding on the glass, trying to wake the snake they were looking at. It resolutely stayed sleeping, to Harry's delight. Anyone who triumphed over those two-no matter what, or who it was- they were in his good books.

Presently, the two toddled off. A few more minutes, and they were gawking at yet another snake, far down in the Reptile house.

Harry shrugged. It wasn't like it would do any harm to go see it, too...Maybe he would even talk to it. He walked down to the glass case, where the sleeping snake lay.

He looked at it for a while, just pondering. But slowly, the Snake rose up... and _winked_. Harry ( who was actually used to this sort of thing by now, after years of odd things happening) winked back, wondering what it was up to. The serpentine head jerked it's head in the direction Dudley and Vernon had went, then raised it's eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that quite plainly said _"I get that all the time."_

" I should imagine," Harry said, briefly amused by it's reaction- then the amusement died down to a sort of calm, morbid sympathy. " It must be pretty annoying. I only get that once a day- and they don't look at me."

The snake nodded vigorously, then gave a little sideways jerk of a head, as if to say _" What can you do?"_

" Not much at the moment," Harry agreed with his sentiment with a rueful smile. " Oh, and... Where do you come from?" He asked, sparked by a sudden curiosity. The snake pointed it's tail at a nearby sign on the wall.

_Boa Constrictor, Brazil._

" Was it nice there?" Harry asked wistfully, thinking that it would be nice in a forest for a change- instead of his cupboard, that was. The Boa Constrictor shook its head and jabbed it's tail towards the sign once more.

_Bred in Captivity._

" Oh," Harry said in understanding. " You've never been there, then..." It nodded slowly, three times in sucession. " I wish I could go with you. It beats being in my cupboard."

"_Cupboard?" _it seemed to say, by the curious blink of it's eyelids and the tilt of it's head. " My bedroom is in the cupboard under the stairs," Harry explained. It nodded again, seemingly satisfied with the answer. " What's your name?" Harry asked it, in the mood for questions and answers now.

_" I don't have one."_ The snake hissed out, and Harry nodded complacently, not really suprised when it spoke. " Uh...How...About...Aries?" Harry had a feeling some kind of snake had that name before, but he couldn't quite remember where. His mind quickly dismissed all thoughts of it when the snake shook it's head. "Sadiki?" Okay, _this _time the Snake was looking at Harry like he was nuts. "Sotiris?" The snake tilted his head and nodded, accepting the name. _"Ssssotirissss I am."_

" THAT BOY-THAT BOY, HE'S TALKING TO THE SNAKE!" a voice yelled; Harry whirled around to see where the voice came from- but it was too late, every single person in the reptile house had identical expressions of mixed fear and curiosity. Blindly, Harry's fingers scrabbled the wall behind him. His digits touched cool glass for a moment- but in a second, it was gone. Harry felt a peculiar shifting sound, and soon the heavy weight of the Boa Constrictor settled on his shoulders. A moment later, and water came flooding out of the glass cage. _"Come, amigo- Let's get out of here." _Too far gone in his panic, Harry barely flinched at the feeling of the enormous predator of a snake settling on his tiny, preylike body and simply began running, obeying the quick advice the Snake had given him.

_SquelchSquelchSquelch, _His shoes went, hurried little frantic steps to freedom.

He ran outside of the Zoo, frantically looking around for means of transportation.

_"Where are we going?"_

Harry hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning through thick glasses for signs of a familiar red double-decker bus that he had so often seen in travel brochures stored in the Library. " To see a man who I consider family," he answered at last in a low tone, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He was going to have to use a skill he hoped he never had to use. Pick-pocketing.

There was a rich-looking man who looked like he was waiting for something in the distance. He whispered to Sotiris to hide under his shirt, and as the snake did so, he breathed in deeply for the last time before opening his eyes, determined to do whatever it took to escape his family's clutches- and the clutches of a cold jail...

* * *

" Jonathan! Jonathan!" Harry knocked frantically, killing curse green flashing with fear.

Harry had caught the bus back from the Zoo after asking the man for directions and taking some money from his pocket-it wasn't hard to do, as he had learned it long ago with a friend- The real question was hiding Sotiris, but the Snake had offered a conclusion of hiding under his shirt-He said it had worked for hiding him from the man, so why not the bus?-Which Harry reluctantly complied with, not wanting to feel colder than nescassary, but also not feeling the greatest need to be caught and sent to prison for a crime he didn't intend to commit.

So now here he was, banging at the door of one of the few people who he trusted most in the world,-That is, the few making up his little makeshift family-and scared to death that the Dursleys would catch him-and actually give him a beating by their own hands.

Eventually, a man in his twenties opened the door, then looked down. " Harry?"

Jonathan DeMiguel was the kind of man some would say would blend almost too easily in a crowd- he had very little that added to his quota of "special." He had a lazy, drawling voice, nearly always had stubble, and he had curly blond hair that spiraled everywhere. In fact, to be perfectly truthful- the only thing that was special about him was his rather quick mind and nearly supernatural observance.

Jonathan was part of the trio of people that Harry trusted, and the first one he did trust in the first place. He was quite proud of that accomplishment, but at the moment...

He was quite honestly baffled.

"...Why on earth do you have a snake under your shirt? Why the hell do you look so scared? And- You know what, just come in." He let out a slight, bemused chuckle, held the door open, and Harry walked in...

* * *

"...So, you're saying you can talk to snakes, this Boa Constrictor currently hiding under your shirt is called Sotiris, and somehow the glass at the Zoo that kept Sotiris in just vanished." Jonathan said in a deadpan voice.

Harry nodded sheepishly, and Sotiris rose from his shirt to give a quick, comforting butt of his head. It seemed to help, as Harry felt a tiny smile lift his lips. " Yeah...Want me to demonstrate speaking to...?"

Jonathan shook his head rapidly. " No, I believe you. I don't tell lies to you, and you don't tell lies to me- I think that's the case, right?" He added at the end, as if unsure-to confirm the statement, Harry nodded. " Well, at any rate...I won't lie to you, that was..."

Harry winced and ducked his head down, waiting for the rebuke.

"...Pretty bloody awesome- way more than I ever did at your age." Harry lifted his head up, feeling a mixture between stunned relief and bemusement. " I...What?" He asked weakly, half wanting to laugh. Jonathan grinned. " You really shouldn't make a habit of rule-breaking, as it gets you caught- well, unless it was totally worth it, but you didn't hear that from me. Don't you dare tell Reid," He grinned, and Harry grinned back. "At any rate, as you didn't really mean to do it, I'm gonna keep you from your family-Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll never see you again." He added somberly. He had some rather strong suspicions that he shared with the rest of Harry's "family" that Harry was abused by his "other family," due to the obvious signs of malnutrition and others, while more subtle, were there-if you knew what you were looking for.

" Let's go get some stuff for you to stay with me tomorrow- then we'll go to your relative's house, and pick up your stuff. Is that okay?" Harry nodded, looking rather amazed-and happy.

" Okay, good. Bedroom's upstairs- the door's painted green. Go sleep in it; It's my old bedroom- I gave it up when I was fourteen."

As Harry raced up the stairs, Jonathan got up, sighing. He wanted a smoke...and he never thought he'd have to face one of these kinds of people again, too... Wizards always got into petty little wars. Well, no...That was kind of a redundant statement, Jonathan thought dryly.

He strode into the kitchen and picked up the telephone, dialed.

" Hey, Rory? We've got a problem..."

* * *

BAB: Okay, I can hear the cries of outrage. I know Jonathan seems...a little...-gestures- put-in-at-the-last-minute. But actually, I planned him in from the very start. You'll be hearing more of why he came into Harry's life in the first place in the next chapter: "Three muggles walk into a wizard's life-and there's the punch line." Naw, just kidding. Okay. Now. I swear this thing will get better later on too. Don't complain to me about it falling flat.


End file.
